


Bienvenue

by methylviolet10b



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Prompt Fic, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 18:10:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7518109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lestrade knows the advantage of teamwork.  A continuation of the story started in <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/881520">Strong-Willed Warrior</a>, <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/883677">Lumineux</a>, and <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4316148">Après-vous</a>. Written for JWP #17: Teamwork.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bienvenue

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Unspecified but grave whumpage. And absolutely no beta. This was written in a complete rush. You have been warned.

Police-work is made up of many elements. Some are routine: reports, walking a beat, asking innumerable questions, attempting to understand the answers and pieces of evidence and put them together into their proper places. Some are not: good police work requires some flexibility, both in accepting that sometimes plans and cases will not go as you intended and rethinking accordingly, and in working with all sorts of people, some more challenging than others.  
  
Take Mr Holmes, for example. Working with him is always a challenge in the best and most frustrating ways. The best, because you’ll always learn something, and more often than not you’ll wind up getting your man. The worst, because the fellow really never works with you; he calls the tune, and you dance to his word or you don’t dance at all. He doesn’t understand co-operation, being part of a team or a coordinated effort, not like policemen learn to do. Or military men, for that matter. Doctor Watson understands cooperation miles better that Mr Holmes ever will, not for all his genius.  
  
Which is probably why we reacted so differently to the small group of policemen we found in the alley as we exited the warehouse. Mr Holmes snarled at them, undoubtedly seeing them as just another obstacle in the way of getting Doctor Watson the attention he badly needed. I, however, knew that here was help, not just for the doctor, but for all the other men trying to apprehend the gang. I didn’t know them, any more than they knew me, but that didn’t matter; we all knew how to work together – and that I outranked them all. A few quick words, and two constables ran off, one to each of the closest large streets, in order to commandeer a cab (or any other vehicle short of an omnibus) as soon as possible. Another burly fellow liberated a few planks from a nearby pile, improvising a stretcher to better carry the unconscious doctor to the cab (the alley was too narrow and cluttered to bring a hansom directly to the door) without risking more movement of his wounded arm. The rest clustered around me, ready to follow my direction.  
  
“Mr Holmes? Will you come with us, or accompany the doctor?” I asked quietly.  
  
For the briefest instant, I could almost convince myself Mr Holmes looked indecisive. He says I lack imagination, and I suppose I do, but all the same I almost fancied I saw it, and then he shook his head. “I’ll go with Watson,” he said shortly.  
  
He did not explain himself further, and I knew better than to ask. I simply named the nearest hospital, more of a statement than a question. Holmes nodded irritably, his attention almost entirely focused on his friend.  
  
Two blasts on a police whistle told me that one of the constables had succeeded in his mission, and a vehicle was at the end of the alley. Holmes and the burly constable swiftly bore Doctor Watson away on the rudimentary litter. I sent the fleetest-looking of the remaining fellows off to have messages sent to both the police surgeon at the Yard, and to Doctor Anstruther, whom I knew both Mr Holmes and Doctor Watson trusted. With luck, one or both of them would arrive in time to help with Doctor Watson’s treatment, or at least advise Mr Holmes on what was being done. I knew I’d prefer having a doctor I knew and trusted on hand to treat me, and I couldn’t imagine Doctor Watson would feel any differently.  
  
That detail taken care of, and the cab-constables back in company, I led us back into the warehouse. There were smugglers to catch, and we at the Yard always get our man – or in this case, a number of men, English and French criminals alike.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted July 17, 2016


End file.
